


AKA From Shadows

by Willowlark



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel, RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crime Fighting, Detective Noir, Detectives, Jessica Jones inspired, Mind Control, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowlark/pseuds/Willowlark
Summary: Semblances are a reflection of one's personality... And when Adam Taurus's gives him the ability to control others, it changes the fates of so many good people, including that of Blake Belladonna, now a Private Eye in Vale content to drown her memories in whiskey. A Jessica Jones inspired story sparked by Adam having Kilgrave's power as his semblance.





	1. Chapter 1

I read… a lot of books, as a kid. Lot of beginnings, lots of middles… lots of ends. None of those beginnings started with answering the door of a crapsack southern Vale apartment without pants on. At least, until now. I suppose making the history books is something to be proud of.

“What could it possibly this early in the morning” I grumble, pulling open the door as the black t shirt I grabbed on the way to the door falls over my chest. Never mind the fact ‘this early’ is one thirty in the afternoon. The bell on the door clatters more than rings to reveal and older couple, both faunus. 

The husband has rabbit ears, drooping from the side of his head where his human ones would be. He’s got to be in his mid fourties, and judging by his well kept beard and business casual attire, he’s a blue collar worker. His wife has a fox nose for her Faunus trait, a brunette around his age. Her long skirt and simple blouse scream PTA or church goer, but before I can decide why my gut is screaming that, my head took to reminding me how much I drank last night. 

Thankfully, despite pursing my lips and closing my eyes for what felt like a minute, they didn’t leave the door frame. In fact, the husband was so bold as to speak anyway. 

“Blake Belladonna? From Shadows Investigations?” He asks. I can catch him eyeing my appearance and I can’t blame him. Given he basically read my business card to me, he’s looking to hire a professional and I answered the door with bed head, wearing nothing but a t shirt and underwear. Let’s hope he can’t smell my breath. 

However, I can blame him for stating the obvious. I tap the glass in the door I’m holding open, pointing to the name “From Shadows Investigations” written in the center. He looks over at it, and when turns back to me I cock an eyebrow. I almost comment on how it’s obvious why he needs to hire me but… I have bills to pay and people tend to not come back when you insult them. A fact I make ample use of. 

“Yeah. Come in, I’ll be with you in a moment.” I say, stepping aside to let the couple into the main room. The main room the apartment doubles as my office, though it’s rather barren bar my desk, a couch, and two chairs in front of the desk. Well, all that and the bookshelf I keep my liquor on. 

“Close the door behind you” I say as I turn down the hall towards my bedroom. My jeans from yesterday do for pants, and my hair goes into a quick ponytail. One of these days I’ll make good on the drunken promises to myself to cut my hair down to a nice, short, manageable bob. Though when I’m in deep shit if I’m going to start meaning the things I say after a bottle of whiskey. The coffee pots tempts me as I walk past my kitchen, but my friend Jack has quite the influence over me. They may call it “hair of the dog”, but it works just fine for a cat faunus. 

The couple sat in the chairs across from my desk, and they’re actively eyeing the apartment. It’s… well, alright, I haven’t cleaned since… I bought the place. But they can keep their judgements to themselves. On my office, and on the me as I open the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on my shelf, pouring a hearty dose into a coffee mug reading “Hang in there Kitten”.

It was a gift, and I don’t visit Bed, Bath and Beyond’s to replace the damn thing.

  


I sit down, rubbing my temples. Putting my secondary semblance, ‘remembering last night through the hangover’ to work, I try to piece together my case load from yesterday before I listen to the fox and the hare’s tale of woe. 

  


———

  


Investigations is a fun word. It sounds like important work, the kind of thing to be proud of when you talk about work over a beer with your friends. Maybe it is, if you investigate (read: shake down suspects) for the Atlas Military. In reality, investigation is a quiet, thankless, and lonely job. Investigation is finding out something that someone wants to hide. They usually have a reason for hiding it too, sometimes a good one. So that someone is usually rather upset when you show up with photographic evidence of their big secret. Even better, the person who hired you? Sometimes they don’t like what’s in the pictures either. Then they have the gall to blame you for it. 

However… It’s quiet. Lots of long nights perched on fire escapes, waiting for Mr Cheater to get home with his second mistress for a quick lay and smoke in bed. I always liked quiet. The fact that piggy in the run down hotel will get everything taken from him in the divorce is a pleasant reward too. Saving the world, one deadbeat spouse at a time. I’m surprised Beacon isn’t knocking down my door to recruit me.

Such was last night. I spent most of it on a fire escape watching and waiting. If I still read like I did as a teenager… Maybe I’d have brought a book. Instead, I brought a Wild Turkey. The bourbon keeps me warm, and keeps my mind just hazy enough to not wander somewhere I’d rather not be. It’s a great system. The camera is setup, as soon as this week’s iteration on “my husband is acting strange, he’s always working late recently” comes in, I’d have my money shot. 

Money shot. Probably not the best term. Before I could decide on a better one, my back pocket buzzed. Weiss had called. 

“Be quick about it, I’m working” I say immediately, nestling the phone between my shoulder and my cheek as I watch the dark apartment. Needless to say, the Ice Queen didn’t like that. I knew she wouldn’t.

“I’d respect that if you worked at normal hours like a typical human being” she huffs before adding “Faunus, whatever”. 

“Tick tock” I continued. 

“You are insufferable.” Weiss said, and I heard the pout in voice. A far cry from the Weiss the world at large sees. Weiss Schnee, graduated Huntress of Beacon Academy, President of the Valean branch of Schnee Dust Company, Valedictorian and holder of not one, but two Council seats in Vale. The length of her titles should give you an idea of just how put together Weiss is in the public eye. How’d a drunk, bitter PI become one of the few people to hear the brash and easily annoyed side of the Schnee? Another story. 

“Meet up with me tomorrow night.” Weiss continued. 

“SDC needs dirt?” I asked.

“No, no work for you. I… haven’t seen you in a while. I was thinking about you during a board meeting this afternoon. I have the evening clear in my schedule, and I certainly don’t need worrying about your mangey ass to keep distracting me, so meet up with me.” She said. She’s like clockwork. Says something honest, then spends a paragraph justifying how it’s not because she cares. I have to give her credit though. It used to take her an essay.

“And if I have work?” 

“Your hours are flexible.” Weiss stated, and she was right. 

“Seaport, Sushi, you’re buying.” I state, the words rolling off my tongue like I rehearsed them. 

“Every time… Do you ever get sick of fatty tuna? You force us to get sushi so often I had to take it off the catered lunch rotation, lest I get sick inthe boardroom.” 

“That a no?”

“8pm. Try not to be too late” I could hear her smirk in her voice and I hung up. I’m sure she expected as such. Not that I really cared either way. 

I don’t do friends. You get hurt when you bring other people into your life. It’s far safer to to run away, or push people away who keep at it. Weiss… has stuck around despite my best efforts to run away. And while it pains me to admit it, the heiress could smoke me in any kind of fight. That Huntress License isn’t for show. So I gave up. She may not let me get away, but she doesn’t push me any further than that and doesn’t ask for anything of me. It’s a passive relationship… but it’s better than anything else in my crapsaccharine life.

Almost on cue, the lights of the apartment click on as I drink from my bourbon. There’s the man, and there’s the mistress, and there goes someone’s pants. He may have broken the sacred vows of marriage and all that jazz… But looked like he’s given her a hell of a good time. The shutter clicks kept my head out of the gutter as I snapped enough pictures to be sure I had one that’s got each of their faces. I’d have stopped to check, but they ended up against the window in their passion and that was the money shot.

I may not like it, but it’s the right phrase. Soon as ‘till death do us part’s wife sees that picture my paycheck will be secured. So with that, I had left the fire escape… and went to burn some of that paycheck. Where though…

  


———

  


Ah, Juniors bar. No wonder my head’s throbbing. Bastard thinks he’s doing me a favor with the triple pours… or that I’ll spill info he can sell if I drink enough. I’m not about to correct him, at the prices he charges. Though the view of the Malchites… that’s worth the charge.

“Ms Belladonna?” The wife asks. I look up, realizing I’ve been running through last night in my head for a good 5 minutes with the couple staring at me. 

“What can I do for you…” I ask, prompting them for a name. 

“Rachel. Rachel Magnolia. And this is my husband Kennith” she says, and Kennith nods. “We’d like to hire you to find our daughter.” Not the first time I’ve been asked to find a daughter. Patterns come to mind.

“How old is she?” 

“She’s 20.” Kennith answers.

“Occupation?”

“College student. She’s studying dance.” Rachel answers. The look on Kennith’s face is enough for me to know how he feels about paying for a degree in dance. 

“And she doesn’t live with you?”

“No… she moved out as soon as she started college.” Rachel says. That’s pretty much all I need. Daddy didn’t like his little girl’s choice of major, she decided she could make it on her own, moved out, and is neck deep in freedom. Suddenly Mommy and Daddy decide they want her back, but she’s too busy living life with no rules to care. At least till she ends up pregnant. 

“Have you contacted the police?” I suggest. This case is a dime a dozen, and pays about that well. 

“We can’t confirm how long it’s been since she’s come back to her apartment, so they won’t treat her as missing.” Kennith says with a scoff. I sympathize a bit. The boys in blue love their red tape. 

“And she isn’t just ignoring your calls?” I say. Some bandaids are better ripped off. Rachel is appalled and Kennith seems to be debating throwing down… but they look to each other for a moment. I take another swig of my… apparently empty mug of Jack.

“Annabel was ignoring our calls, yes.” Rachel admits, and from expression admitting it may as well been tearing a fingernail off. “We fought with her over her career choices… and she was ignoring us for about a month. We thought she would cool off… She could never hold a grudge. When she was a little girl…” Rachel starts, but Kennith taps her knee. “Right… She never was mad at us for more than a day. To be out of contact this long is strange. Then we…” Rachel trails off and Kennith steps in for her.

“We got a package today, to our home, addressed to Annabel. It was raw dust. The kind that’s heavily restricted, because it’s… used in bombs” he said, and that got my attention. “We didn’t tell this to the police, not yet. I don’t know what’s involved her and I couldn’t live with myself if I ruined her life over a misunderstanding.” He continues, answering the question I was about to ask. “We just want to find her and find out what’s going on. If she’s in trouble, get her out. Get her help” and the fear in his voice is palpable. …Shit.

“… What’s the address of her apartment? I’m not promising anything but… I’ll try and find her.” I say. Sorry Annabel, the freedom express is getting derailed. Her parents light up, and give me the folder with Annabel’s information in it. More info that I usually have to start with even. They thank me profusely and they leave. I get more Jack. 

Why do I do this kind of thing? Help people sniff out secrets? Well, I’m good at it. I’ve always been suspicious, wary of strangers. It’s par for the course for a faunus in a big city like Vale. I realized all my paranoia about if the asshole with popped collar was going to throw a rock at my head can be turned into observations. I can look at him, learn his facial expression, and when I see him make for the rock I can kick him in the balls before he does. 

Everything snowballed from there. The more I know about other people, the better I can keep them from hurting me. The further I can be from them. Some might call that a lonely view on life but I call it reality. I did the friends, the allies, the comrades thing. And I got betrayed and used in the worst possible way. I’d rather run away from people the rest of my miserable life than suffer that again. 

Including run away from myself, and these terrible trains of thought. I down half a mug of Jack. Whiskey is truly the pinnacle of Valean innovation. After filling it again, I slump into my desk chair. With a sigh, I plug in my camera and start copying the pictures from last night. It’s time to send an email that won’t make anyone happy. 

… They were a lot better looking last night. How much of that wild turkey did I drink?

  


— ——

My phone starts ringing on… Actually, where is it? I use all four ears to navigate towards where I threw my phone last night, apparently under the radiator in the bedroom. Smooth Blake. I almost put it right back seeing the caller ID, but with a heavy sigh and a glare at the name, I pick up the call.

“What.” I say, as curt as I could possibly manage.

“Hello to you too, Ms Belladonna.” The man’s voice comes through. He doesn’t sound half as old as his grey hair makes him look, and there’s a certain air to the voice. It makes people trust the headmaster, and has earned him respect from most of Vale and even the other nations. I say most, because I don’t trust the scheming bastard farther than I can throw him.

“I’ve got a full docket, if you’re planning on asking for yet another favor Ozpin.” I try, knowing inconveniencing me is the least of his concerns. 

“Funny you mention a favor…” Bastard. “I have reports of a ring of drug smugglers operating in Southern Vale. They’ve been trying to sell to Beacon students and while I’m not able to send my staff down to investigate, lest local law enforcement complain about Huntsman acting outside their jurisdiction…”

“Don’t make excuses Oz. We both know you just want me doing the dirty work.” I bite.

“While I do think you are particularly qualified, I assure you it’s not because I think you should be doing dirty work Ms Belladonna.” He replies. 

“Oh really? Funny how how every time you come call it involves the criminal underground in Vale then. Run out of Grimm to kill?”

“How I wish that was the case. You have a lot of insider knowledge of the city Ms Belladona and while you may under value that, I do not. Your skill set, from your investigation work and even before…” 

“Watch it Oz.” I say, my tone freezing over. He says nothing for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Your skills are very well suited for urban espionage. Many Huntsman wish they could do the things you can do.”

“Then why not offering me a teaching gig? I’ll tell all your horny teenagers the secret is booze, sex, and a deep seated loathing for the human race.” I snark. Unfortunately, he takes in stride with a chuckle.

“I think the board would deem you a bad influence on the youth, even I’d hire you in a heartbeat. Besides, there is so much more good you can do out on the streets.” Alright, I had enough. As fun as throwing shade at the Headmaster of Beacon is, I had a file on Annabel Magnolia burning a hole in my desk. 

“You and your damned greater good. What do you want me to do with these guys exactly?” 

“Getting them off the streets would be a start.” I can heard the twinkle in his voice as he replies. It bares repeating, what a bastard. 

“Fine. Triple rate.” I growl before hanging up. I didn’t have to wait, Ozpin has more money than he knows what to do with and the Valean council will give him whatever he wants.

There’s a nickname for him down here in the city; people like to call him the Chessmaster. It’s incredibly accurate. He know how people tick, how to get them to act, all for some grand plan only he could possibly understand. Weiss has even mentioned falling into step whenever Ozpin is involved, and she’s as headstrong as they come. I wonder if it’s because Oz has dirt on her like he does for me.

The phone buzzes again with a text from Ozpin, containing only an address. Of course, one in a bad district of town. Oz never seems to have issues he wants me to fix in Uptown. I map in my head as I strip to take a shower; if I head up to Annabel’s Oz’s little detour is on the way to seaport tonight. It’s a plan. 

  


———

  


While I consider it discrimination, cat burglar is a rather accurate term. The dexterity that comes along with the ears on my head makes climbing the side of the apartment building Annabel lives in trivial and I can get to her window without much effort. Like most people in Vale, Annabel didn’t bother to lock her window. Maybe when I retire I’ll warn the people of Vale about that. For now, it makes my job easier.

The job is a little different, when you can’t find your target. Not too much different mind. You’re still digging up secrets and making at least one party unhappy by doing it. But now you need to find the person hiding them first. That sounds like a hard thing to do too; Vale has the largest population of any city in the world, bar the Atlesian capital. Lot of people and a lot basement crackhouses to step into and never leave. Not to mention I’m one woman, how ever could I search this whole city?

Case in point, I don’t have to. First thing I do in the apartment is get the mail, it’s been piling up under the door. Credit card bills are maps to a person’s whereabouts and Annabel is no exception. She’s been wracking up quite a few hotel bills and… going to quite a few nice restaurants. Maybe she’s doing a different kind of dancing on the side, if she’s going to pay these bills off.

Her apartment otherwise seems untouched. She must not have been home in at least a week. I check the fridge to be greeted to smell of spoiled milk. If she bought milk, she probably didn’t plan this little hotel grand tour of hers ahead of time. It’s something suspicious alright. I check her desk, it’s littered with papers and textbooks (don’t ask me why anyone would pay for a textbook on dancing) but her scroll isn’t here. I don’t see any keys either, so I’d assume she didn’t leave under duress. I step back, looking over the shitty little studio. It’s… odd. Almost like she left one day and decided she never wanted to come back here. Would rather put herself into debtors prison from hotel bills than be here or her parents. 

“… Teenagers” I mutter. It’s probably something stupid. Maybe she thinks the place is haunted by a maiden of the seasons. That’s always good for a laugh. I grab the credit card statement and stuff it in the pocket of my jacket before making for the window. 

My eye catches a mirror Annabel mounted on the wall. Call it vain, but I stop for a moment. The white leather jacket, half length with black trim I got when I started From Shadows is well worn, but has survived almost as much shit as I have. It’s even got a belt sewn into around the waist, like a classic PI jacket. I need at least one thing that makes me look like a PI, considering my black t shirt and faded blue jeans don’t scream professionalism. My black boots are scuffed to shit too… I’d replace them if I thought I could find anything as comfortable. The fingerless leather gloves are a recent edition, since the fall weather rolled in. I’d love real gloves to keep my hands warm on those 3am fire escape trips, but it’s impossible to operate a camera in gloves that actually keep you warm. 

I shuff my canvas messenger higher on my shoulder, keeping my long black hair out from underneath the strap. I head for the window, rather than acknowledge how dead my eyes are. Sometimes you don’t need to see to believe.

  


———

  


Ozzy Ozzy Oxenfree’s address leads me to a warehouse in the Meatpacking district. It’s entirely non descript and I probably wouldn’t have noticed it from the half dozen others on the block if not for the guard standing at the warehouse door. The extremely, extremely, obvious guard. He’s constantly adjusting the handgun he has in his waistband and is the perfect example of constant vigilance, staring at any passerby until they leave his line of sight. Nothing suspicious about it at all, really. 

He’s so dedicated yet he has yet to look up once. I watch him for a bit, standing on the balcony that sits over the door he’s guarding, looking down at his valiant efforts. When you have the reflexes of a cat and your aura unlocked, navigating via rooftops isn’t terrible hard to do. It’s not even that uncommon of an activity, yet I’ve never run into a guard on a rooftop. 

I give ‘you shall not pass’ a good 5 minutes to loo up while I crack into a handful of airplane bottle whiskeys. I don’t recognize any of the names, but Weiss always gives them to me when she flies. Even with the handicap he doesn’t spot me and I’m forced to head in undetected. 

It’s a small warehouse, and the operation doesn’t have enough product to fill even a third of that. I walk along the catwalks, taking in the half dozen crates likely containing the drugs Oz is worried about. Not sure what kind of idiot takes drugs on Beacon’s grounds, but here we are. I pull out my camera, take a few photos of the crates with the labels on them. The drugs are steroids, which I guess makes sense for a school of warriors. 

In a small side room I can spot a trio of thugs playing some kind of game on a miniature tv set up in there. The main room has another pair of guys, apparently the only people to take their job seriously as they catalog the stock. I snap some photos of all 5 of the dealers, just for the hell of it. Much like their super guard outside, none of them think to look up and it’s making me lazy. 

Still. I have a hotel to stop by on the way to meeting Weiss. Might as well get this over with. I wait for the two dealers in the warehouse to turn away from the side room, and drop down in front of the room. I slip in, closing the door behind me so I won’t be spotted by the two outside and take stock. Two of the dealers are on the couch, one standing behind the couch, and they’re all completely absorbed in some game. Easy pickings, I slink behind the standing one and put him in a sleeper hold. Bastard is tall, but they always are at my height and I can compensate. I catch his controller as he drops it, and ease him to the ground. The idiots on the couch haven’t even noticed.

I grab a bottle off the table behind the two and smash it down over one of their heads. The other whips around and I grab his necklace, twisting it and using it to choke him. He tries to yell but… all he does is choke out a few times before he ends up unconscious. 

“… Specialized for Urban espionage huh…” I mutter, looking at the three men before me. Dark thoughts surface from days long past and I turn on a heel. I have two more to knock out before I call the cops. 

I peer through the door, only to see a change in the warehouse. A man in a black suit with a red tie, sunglasses and fedora is talking to the two dealers. I know that uniform, it’s one of Junior’s boys. Which is odd, as Junior doesn’t take to running an operation like dealing, he likes his role as an information dealer. This guy must be rented to one of Junior’s regulars, I’ve heard Junior loans muscle for the right price. 

Two more of Junior’s guys come and cart a crate into a waiting van, and the dealers are given a rather large chunk of lien. Junior’s guys leave and the dealers immediately start counting out the lien, barely keeping from drooling on the cards. I take the opportunity to get out and back on the catwalk. I walk across the catwalk and drop down behind the one holding the lien, bashing his head as I drop. He hits the ground with a nose breaking slam. 

“What!” The last dealer shouts as he reaches for a gun behind his back. I activate my semblance as I make to flip over him, leaving a shadow clone in my place as I tap down behind his back. 

“Who are you?!” The dealer threatens, not realizing he’s talking to a clone. I wrap my arms around his neck and choke him out like I did his friends, ending the the fight before it began. 

“…” I look over the warehouse, at the 5 unconscious people by my hand. Sure, they’re not the volunteering at the community center kind of people… and I’ve done worse to better people… I pull another mini bottle from my bag and shoot it down my throat, the burn the only good thing I’m feeling. 

“…Fuck you Ozpin.”

  


———

  


After leaving one of the smaller crates on the balcony with the very obvious illegal drug label facing the street, I leave the world’s greatest security guard to meet the police dispatch I just called and put the warehouse behind me. Work is a wonderful distraction from the mistakes of my past, and I have enough time to check out the last hotel Annabel was billed by before meeting Weiss. 

The hotel’s only 3 star, nothing fancy but probably doesn’t have rats. I climb a fire escape with a view of most of the building before pulling out my phone and calling the hotel.

“Thames Street Hotel, how may I direct your call?” 

“Helllllloooooo Hi my name is Annabel and Iiiii forgot which was my… my… room! Can you tell me… where… my room is Mr Thames?” I slur into the phone, putting on my drunk valley girl voice. So long as the person can’t seem me gagging as I speak, I think I’m pretty convincing. 

“Ah y-yes Ms Annabel. You and your… companion, are in room 613.” He says. The stuttering is odd, but an answer is an answer. Maybe the clerk’s got a crush. 

“Thaaaaaaannnnnk you!” I half squeal into the phone before hanging up. I should have stopped for bourbon before coming up her. I don’t have the fortitude to put on that act with just airplane booze. 

I bring up my camera and check the windows on the 6th floor. Most are empty, so spotting thirteen isn’t too hard. And… there she is. Long black hair, rabbit ears on her head, and… sitting on the end of the bed in lingerie, with her arms on her lap as if she was in church. Staring… straight ahead. Odd pastime, but she’s here. I grab a few pictures, though I hope she plans on getting dress soon as this isn’t the kind of shot her father’s going to want to see. 

I watch for a bit… she barely moves. Her lack of movement is increasingly strange and it sends a shiver down my spine. I look over the photos, spotting bruises and marks on her body. Maybe this is some kind of play? While I’d believe the story goes ‘the good little girl discovers her weird sex kink and goes on a multi week binge of lays in strange hotels’, something about this… Isn’t right. I’m no prude, but the way she’s staring… I look through the camera again, using the telescoping lens as a telescope. 

Except all I see is a the back of a ginger guy’s head, he stepped right in the frame. I cluck my tongue and zoom out for a full view of her companion and my heart pounds. Blood rushes to my head and I grab the fire escape in attempt to not fall off it. My eyes feel like they’re trying to force their way out of my head and my head is ringing more bells than a church choir. Somewhere in the last second my breathing became ragged and panicked.

  


Two black horns on red hair.

  


A wilting flower tattoo on his back, in black and red. And.

  


As he turns around.

  


A SDC company scar on his face and bright, blue eyes. 

  


And I ran.


	2. Chapter 2

I don’t remember the next… period of time. I say period of time because I have no idea how long it took me to get from point A, the hotel I found Annabel at, and point B, the shitty sushi place I was going to drag Weiss too. My chest hurts, like my heart took up drumming in a fit of teenager rebellion and decided to use my rip cage as the drums. I’m just… standing, in front of the sushi joint staring at my hands as my chest heaves. My palms are dirty. I scratched up my right hand too. I don’t recall how. A drip of blood forms from the cut, and I, mesmerized, watch it roll down my hand until it drips off me.

That drop seemed to contain all my strength, as I felt my legs go out from underneath me. I leaned back rather than drop, my back smacking into the streetlight behind me. Did I intentionally stand in front of the light? Did I expect this? Questions buzz in my skull again, the fervor threatening to overwhelm my newly reclaimed self awareness until.

“Blake?” I hear a melodic voice behind me. Weiss is a singer, or rather was forced to become one by her controlling (my heart pounds again, why) father. It’s left her with a voice that’s like aspirin for the ears. “What’s with you?” She asks. I don’t reply, still listening to the rubber ball bounce around my skull. Actually, I think that’s my heart. Huh. 

Suddenly Weiss is in my vision, she’s kneeled down and looking up at me, interrupting my view of soy sauce encrusted sidewalk. “You’re clammy. What shook you like this Blake?” Weiss looks left, her eyes narrowing for a moment before turning to me, her blue eyes wide and bright and terrifying for some reason. 

“Let’s go inside Blake. Get you some water, okay?” She says, and my body moves to follow. I watch her heels, not hearing her say anything to the wait staff and sitting in the chair she pulls out for me. I hear her snap at a waiter and say something about water and it sends a chill down my spine as if she poured the water down my back. Soon Weiss pushes a glass of water into my hand. 

“Blake, you should drink something.” She say softly. I take the glass, but don’t drink. Weiss sits down herself and doesn’t say anything more. My thoughts are racing, but so quickly I can’t actually understand them. The cloud they’ve become starts to blend with the background noise of the restaurant, and it starts to fade into the background. I take a drink from the water. 

“Hey Blake.” Weiss says. She pulled out her scroll at some point and is looking over it at me. “Settled a bit?” She cocks an eyebrow. Very Weiss way of showing concern.

“…” I don’t say anything. A waiter comes over and puts an appetizer down on the table with a nod to Weiss. How long was I zoned out for? Or rather. 

“I need to go.” I say, making to stand. Weiss stands first, her scroll hitting the table with a thud under her hand. 

“Excuse me? You aren’t even going to explain why you were catatonic on the street when I showed up? Why you spent the last 15 minutes just steadying your breathing, staring at your napkin? Believe it or not I’m concerned about you, you insolent dolt” Weiss barks, clearly having enough of being concerned. 

“I don’t have time! The more time I spend here, or in the city at the greater the odds that he finds me!” I hiss at her. I banish the details of who ‘he’ is from my mind, if I think about it I’m not going to be able to leave and I need to leave.

“Damnit Belladonna, what are you-“ Weiss says, her chair clattering back as she stands. Her voice cuts out, missing all but the record scratch, and she stares forward, her hands still on the table in an angry slap. She looks dead forward and I stand, turning to follow her eyes.

Annabel is standing in the doorway to the restaurant. She’s more clothed than before, a simple skirt and shirt, but is also wearing a dust bomber’s vest. While it’s clearly homemade I can immediately tell it’s put together correctly. Well even. That bomb is more than capable of taking out the store and half of the neighboring stores. Windows on the store across the street. That’s assuming bombs haven’t gotten easier to build since I was… involved with such activities. 

“Hello Blake” Annabel says and her voice gives me a shiver down my spine. I reflexively reach over my shoulder for a hilt that’s no longer there. Great, something else from my past I really don’t need to be thinking about right now. Annabel is smiling, eerily so. Her voice carries that same quality, it’s… hollow. It’s like looking in a terrifying mirror.

“I have a message for you.” She continues. Her expression stays the same. “You shouldn’t have left. It was your fault everything fell apart.” Her smile some how widens. “But I forgive you! Come back with me. Everything will be fine then. We’ll be together. How it should be.” She stops talking and no one moves. The whole restaurant is frozen in place. When it’s clear that’s the end of the message, I swallow, despite my mouth being dry as sand. 

“… I take it… You’re armed and ready for me to say no?” I say. Half the room’s eyes swivel to me. Oh good, they know whose fault this is now. Annabel visibly quivers for a moment, but her smile doesn’t break. 

“Yes Blake.” Her words bring the temperature in the room down to ‘bone chilling’. I try and think through the tension. Plans flash through my head, the plans I’ve made obsessively rather than sleep in case he ever did find me again. Ways to stay in control, ways to work around… Work around his words.

“Well. You got me Annabel. But what about my friend? Are you going to _stop her_ if she wants to come too?” I ask, not flinching. 

“Nope. I’m just going to stop you from running away again.” Annabel says. 

“Oh okay. I’m sure you aren’t lying.”

Weiss gets the message. Thank god for that rich kid education. She rips her necklace from her neck and her semblance activates with the speed only a Huntress could achieve. The necklace disappears to power a glyph under Annabel’s feet which explodes into a glacier of ice, consuming all but the girl’s head. Not two seconds later officers pour into the the front door with handguns aimed at Annabel. Never seen them on time for a crisis. 

Weiss heaves a sigh, and she turns towards the shadow clone I leave behind. I bolt for the kitchen, and then for the street out the back door. I can see her move to follow me only for the officers to call out to her and she pauses. I don’t know why she looks surprised. This is what I do after all. Run away.

———

I go home a roundabout way. As in, I take 5 blocks to go every one block closer. I’m not risking being tailed again. The fact that I was at all really shows… well, it won’t happen again. That’s what’s important. I unlock my door with a frantic jingling of my key ring and get inside. 

I start with a long swig of bourbon. I’m not sure which, I wasn’t paying attention when I grabbed at a bottle. I need my nerves steadied and I’m not a fan of yoga. I drink again then head to the bedroom. The bottom of my wardrobe has a duffel bag, I yank it out and throw it on the bed. A small voice in my head comments that I’m running away again, but another swig of the god’s nectar quells such foolish thinking. This is the only way, and I’ll be damned if I let him find me again.

I nearly jump out of my skin as my phone buzzes. I forgot I had the thing. I pull it out, it’s Weiss by the caller ID. I hit ignore immediately. Before I can pocket the phone it buzzes again, Weiss. This time I toss the phone into the duffel bag. 

We aren’t friends. Hell, I met her when I was hired to get dirt on her. And I did, for that matter. I don’t owe her a damn thing. It’s her fault for thinking I wouldn’t leave at the first sign of trouble. Hell, I’m sure she’d leave me. That’s what people do. Leave, turn on you. Control you.

At that I slam more alcohol down my throat. Thinking is bad. I need to move. I throw all of my possessions in a bag as fast as I can. Laptop, whiskey… Alright I don’t own much. I took every bit of identification I have, lest he track me via that. I grab some case files, hell, he might be able to get to me via an old client. 

I pull the bottom drawer of my desk open and stare at the worn, black case inside. My heart rends itself in two just looking at the thing. I can barely bring myself to reach for it, yet I know… I know I can never let it go. I need the reminder. My trembling, damnit stop trembling, hand grabs the case and tosses it in the duffel. I stare at it, on top of my meager clothing and possessions. 

“…” I drink again, eyes never leaving the case. I zip the bag closed and look around my office.

“Well. It was a good run.” I say. No regrets. This is the only thing I can do. I won’t… I can’t stay. I lock up my apartment for the last time, tap the From Shadows nameplate on the door, and make for grand central terminal.

———

“Where are you headed?” The obnoxiously cheery clerk asks. 

“What’s cheapest?” I say, head on a swivel as I look around the terminal.

“Uh.” She seems confused. I give her a look and she busies herself checking her timetables. “Well, train to Vacuo is cheapest, but requires a waver for a high Grimm threat on the trip-“

“Give it to me” I say, grabbing at a pen to sign the waver. She looks taken aback, but complies. I have 20 minutes. 20 more minutes and I’m gone. Never safe, but gone.

I sit down in the terminal. I’m in the corner, so I can see as much of the terminal as possible. All four of my ears are strained, listening for anything out of the ordinary. I don’t know what to expect except everything, so I try and predict any possible attackers. Granted, every human is a potential attacker when you’re a faunus but that just means I’m well practiced at finding them. The weather report on the TV nearby stops, and Lisa Lavender comes on. 

“Good evening Citizens of Vale, we interrupt your weather report for a breaking update on the shocking bomb threat made in the seaport today. We have live footage of an interview with the bomber during her transfer to police custody to share with you now.” Damn me, I couldn’t help but look over. The live footage was recorded on someone’s scroll, judging by how shaky it is and the vertical orientation. Annabel is red faced, tears soak her face as she pleads desperately with the officer basically dragging her to his car. 

“Please oh god no, it wasn’t me it was him he made me do it please believe me he made me do it! I don’t want to hurt anyone I’m not a radical oh gods please believe it was his fault, it was-“ her voice is cut off as she’s tossed, literally, into the back of a police cruiser. The video stops there.

“There you have it folks. This assumed faunus radical entered a sushi establishment in seaport with a homemade dust explosive strapped to her chest. If not for the sheer luck of Huntress and SDC branch president Weiss Schnee being on the scene, the faunus might have killed dozens. Weiss Schnee is now cooperating with the police in order to get the detailed picture of what happened. Weiss Schnee…” 

I tune out as Lisa begins singing Weiss’s praises. All deserved of course. Without Weiss things would have gone very differently. Grimly, the explosive kind of way. Gods, if Weiss wasn’t there… I would have bolted, consequences be damned. All those people… Annabel…

I unclench my fist. I didn’t realize I had started and my nails opened up the cut I got earlier. That’s just who I am. I run. People shouldn’t be near me. They only hurt and betray, so I’m just… doing in kind. And there isn’t a person on Remnant who can resist him anyway. Why should I not run, save myself? I’ve done my time. I can’t… I can’t go back to that. That… hell inside my own mind. I still don’t sleep at night, I drown myself in booze lest I remember too much… 

The TV shows a picture of Annabel. Apparently the only one they have is of her crying and panicked. She looks… I blink twice. Her long black hair… light features… I saw myself for a moment. And I’m damning her to the same fate. Having to live with the guilt of actions she didn’t want to take. Having to live at all, knowing she was violated down to the core of her soul. No one will believe her. They didn’t believe me. She’ll forever doubt what is her and what is what he made her, never knowing how far she went into the darkness. If it was his orders or… her. 

My duffel buzzes. I stare at it. Two more buzzes and I open the zipper. It’s Weiss, again. There are missed text messages too. Asking where I am, what happened, what’s going on. Am I okay. Promising to find me as soon as the police let her leave. One message stands out.

“Do you know Annabel Magnolia?”

“…” I look at my ticket. Another escape. One more in a long line of escapes. My semblance, the very reflection of my soul is for escaping. It’s who I am and yet… This one time… I’ll stay. Annabel is my client damnit. Her parents wanted me to reunite her with them, and that’s what I’ll do. After that? I stick the ticket in my back pocket. 

“I’m going to fucking Cancoon and never coming back.”

———

I texted back Weiss with a simple “My office” as I left the terminal. I found her at my door when I got back. She looks me over quickly, worry on her face. Seeing I am in fact fine, just a coward, the ice queen returns and she looks ready to screech. 

“Inside.” I say before she does. She frowns but acknowledges. I unlock the door and come in, dropping my bag on the floor next to my desk. 

“What. In the name of the Brothers Grimm happened in there.” Weiss says. Her tone says she is entirely done with my non answers. I don’t terribly care, as I start by pouring myself a drink. I motion a glass at her, if she wants some. She just glares and I pour the glass anyway. She doesn’t look so good either. Her make up is worn from her night in the station, her clothes are wrinkled… Very unbecoming of the SDC brand president. Must have came straight here. 

“…” I sigh and lean against my bookshelf, swirling the liquor in my mug. 

“Blake…” Weiss says, the fire gone from her voice. She steps closer. “I need you to talk to me about this. I know I got held up at the station, the police don’t like Huntresses acting on their turf, but I covered for you. I told them you don’t know Annabel. I did that because I trust you aren’t involved in this, and if you are it’s against your will. But I need to know. I took vows as a Huntress to protect people, and…” she trails off. I know what she means. She’d stop me if she needs to. 

I look at her through my bangs. “Annabel is a case of mine. I got it yesterday morning.” I say. Weiss waits for me to continue. I appreciate the patience. “Her parents said she went missing. I found her at a hotel with… a guy.” I pause, longer this this time, and Weiss gets impatient. 

“Not really strange for a college girl to be with a guy is it?” 

“I doubt it was by choice.” I say, bitterness seeping from my tone onto my tongue. I drink, rather have my throat burn. 

“…” Weiss looks expectantly.

“That guy. His semblance… controls people. Whenever he tells you to do something, you want to do it. All you want to do is whatever he tells you. He probably told her to come with him, told her to sleep with him… told her to try and blow herself up.” Weiss is quiet. I don’t know why I thought she’d believe this. No one else ever did, no mind control semblance has ever been recorded. Mind affecting, but never control. She’s a scholarly woman, she’d have read about semblance categorization.

“…Why do you know this?” Weiss asks, hesitantly. Like she knows the answer. Like I said, scholarly woman. I drink the rest of my glass down, feeling my bangs fall over my face. I look up at her, she’s got height on me from her heels, and give her a wry look. 

“Do you really need to ask?” 

She surprises me by darting forward, heels clicking against my hardwood floor, wrapping me in a hug. I don’t return the favor. I don’t push her off either. 

———

Weiss is settled on the couch. She took her hair down, a rarity for her. She took off her jacket too, leaving her shoulders bare given her strapless dress. I’m behind me desk, an empty bottle standing tall next to a half full one. Both Weiss and I have a glass.

She didn’t pressure me for more details. We’ve been sitting, together but alone with our thoughts and that’s worked. I don’t think I’ve been this comfortable with another human in the room in… God, I don’t know when. Lets go with ever.

“So what are you going to do? I’m guessing since you answered me at all, you aren’t leaving town.” Weiss asks. I smirk slightly. Definitely smart. 

“I need to get Annabel cleared. After that my job is done. I’m no huntress or hero. No one else on Remnant knows what… he’s capable of. So I’m the only one that can vouch for her.” 

“How do I help?” 

“You don’t.” Weiss sits up, not happy with that answer. 

“Why the hell not? You don’t have to go it alone.” I give her a sideways glare.

“I said it before. No one else knows what he’s capable of. I’m the only one with even a chance of not getting enslaved to the bastard. I can’t imagine what he’d do with you in his grasp. What he’d do to you sure, it wouldn’t be pretty,” Weiss narrows her eyes, clearly not liking that hard truth. Deal with it rich girl, this is what it looks like at the bottom. “but what he could do with your weath and expertise in combat? He’d be unstoppable. There is absolutely no way I’d put you within a 3 mile radius of this guy if I can help it.” Weiss, to her credit, actually pauses to think for a moment before arguing.

“That may be true but you don’t control me.” 

“I don’t, but I don’t have to tell you anything else. Good luck finding him, it’s not like you’re a PI or anything.” I snark. The way her body tenses and quivers must be the physical embodiment of getting riled up, never thought that was an actual thing. She slumps back into the couch.

“You’re a bitch you know that?” She says.

“Better a bitch than rich.” I bite back. She doesn’t reply to the dig. Shame. 

“You can’t stop me from helping though. I can get involved. I might even be able to get you visitation with Annabel in police custody.” Ouch. Point Weiss. I wasn’t sure how I was going to talk to Annabel, and I know I need to. I need to know how he ticks these days. If I’m not playing with every possible card in the deck, I’m not going to beat him. I mull over retorts in my head, but Weiss interrupts.

“… Will you at least tell me if you need help. If you’re… at risk of…” I don’t make her finish the sentence. Better for both of us.

“Fine.” I say. She looks at me, judging my quick response. 

“You’re not lying to me are you?” 

“I’m a seeker of the truth. I never lie.” Which is just as much of a lie as getting Weiss involved. Like hell will I give the bastard the satisfaction of having control over someone else, because of me. That’s the only reason I’m not on a Vacuan beach right now. No one else needs to suffer my personal hell. 

That’s surprisingly altruistic of me. …Must be the booze. 

“That’s a bullshit line if I’ve ever heard one, but I’ll take your word for it.” Naive, naive rich girl. “I’ll try and get visitation clearance for Annabel.” She adds, pulling her jacket back on over her shoulders. “I’m going home. Goodbye Blake.” She says. She looks back towards me when she gets to the door, and rather than a goodbye in return I cock an eyebrow at her. She huffs and leaves. 

I… don’t do friends. I don’t do allies and comrades. I don’t know what Weiss thinks she is. Why she thinks any of this has to do with her. This is about me. Me and my personal, literally horned demon and sending the bastard to the deepest prison I can shove him into. Mountain Glenn might have a few worthy of him. I’m the only one who can prevent this. That’s all it is. I’m not a hero, not a huntress. Whatever good intentions Weiss seems to think I have are selfish. Or more likely, she’s setting me up. People who get close to you are out to use you. I just want… I pour a shot into my glass and down it.

Fuck it. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know anything further than I’m going to clear Annabel of her crimes. I don’t need to know hat’s wrong with Weiss… What many, many things are wrong with me… Just what I’m going to do. I’m going to stand my ground. For the first time in my god damn life. 


	3. Chapter 3

People in my profession have unusual hours, lots of late nights staking out for some John to fuck the maid, tailing the wife meeting the pool boy in the Hamptons, or hoping to catch that secretive drug deal taking place on a named street corner. You get used to getting sleep wherever you can, such as the early morning. After Weiss left I crashed, not touching the go bag I packed. That’s not me going against my resolve. I’m just a lazy bitch.

It’s not good sleep mind you. I wake up soaked and sweat remembering… remembering exactly why I want to run. But just as I’m lazy I’m apparently suicidal, though losing this war will make suicide look like an all expense paid vacation. If that qualifies as being overdramatic I’ll tell you exactly what you can kiss. 

I shower off the sweat before checking the voicemail left on my phone and scouring the bedroom for clothes that don’t smell like booze. 

“Blake? It’s Weiss. I talked to the Vale Police Chief. I told him I was bringing you in to handle Annabel’s case as I wouldn’t be able to dedicated the time to it the case deserves. Fair warning, he likely only agreed to let you see her this afternoon because he’s happier with civilian you than Huntress me hanging around. Not that happier means happy, he’s going to give you shit. The police don’t like Huntresses doing their jobs for them.” Weiss says. She tsks into the phone. “And do remember my lack of time is an excuse, you call me as soon as you have a lead and I’ll be there to back you up. Or chase you to hell myself, if you blow me off.” I can hear her smirk as she hangs up. No wonder she never held down a guy. Not that I’m one to talk.

Well, that’s a plan. I pull my jacket on and check my bag has everything I need. I go see Annabel and hope she has some kind of lead on… I sit down on the bed, staring at my palms. I picked up a… habit, of not referring to… him, by name in my head. Some kind of way of dehumanizing the bastard, or weakening him in my head. I… My hand curls into a fist. I’m going to have to say his name, not only for the investigation but to convince myself he can’t control me anymore. You know, metaphorically, given his abilities. But if I’m going to not listen to the very loud voice in the back of my head tell me to run, run until everything in this city is a distant memory… I’m going to have to face Adam Taurus. One step at a time. 

…Damnit, my heart rate picked up. Still, it’s a start. There’s a sudden buzzing behind me and I leap back, only to remember my phone tosses among the sheets of the bed. Alright, so maybe I have a lot of steps. I check the call id and groan.

“Ozpin, I don’t have time for your shit. You guys are eliminated.” I spit into the phone. 

“I saw the report. Anything interesting about the case?” Bastard is unfazed by my undiplomatic tone. 

“Your guys were selling to someone who hired Junior’s thugs. Report it to the damn police if you want an investigation.” 

“Hmm” he says. He doesn’t continue and I roll my eyes. 

“Well terrible talking to you and” I stop as I have a thought.

“Yes Ms. Belladonna?”

“… And you owe me. I’m coming to the campus.” I say and hang up. Ozpin and his school is one of the most comprehensive schools in the world. Someone would even say Beacon is a cut above the others entirely because of the chess master running it. I’m going to need to prove… Adam’s… semblance exists, no one believed me when it was me. If anyone has a way to do it, it’ll be Beacon. 

Besides, I’m still young enough to pass for a student. I lean to look a mirror. Mistake. …Fuck it. I’m not out to make friends. Huntress life just isn’t my scene.

———

The airship ride to Beacon is quick. There’s only two ports in the city that fly up to the academy, but I’m near the southern one and the actual flight is less than 10 minutes. I step off the landing pad and take in the rather ridiculous school. The things been around since the city of Vale was founded and it still looks pristine, a testament to how much money it brings in. Every little brat wants to grow up and be a Huntsman, to save people from the big nasty Grimm outside the city walls. Little do they realize that the biggest evil in the world are the very people they’re trying to save and the rate of Huntsman killed by other humans is increasing yearly.

But so many kids are raised with this dream that Beacon, Shade, Atlas… and whatever the hell Mistral calls their school get thousands of applicants every year. It’s a dream that gets some of them killed.

“…” Oops, I’m squeezing my messenger strap like it’s Adam’s throat. 

I head for the main building. I’ve been here before, but even if I hadn’t it doesn’t take more than a single brain cell to guess someone as arrogant as Ozpin has his office in a clock tower. I pass a handful of uniform clad students, all smiles. Given they don’t even give my leather jacketed self a second look, Beacon either has a lot of visitors or Ozpin doesn’t teach situational awareness at this school. 

His office is not only in the clock tower, the woman at the desk tells me it’s actually behind the clock face. Ozpin’s ego knows no bounds, next he’s going to tell me he’s the reincarnation of the king of Vale or some equally ridiculous bullshit. I ride the elevator up, tapping my foot the whole time. 

“Ms Belladonna.” Ozpin says as I enter. The room is huge, bigger than my entire apartment and all it contains his own desk and chair. He’s leaning on his desk, looking at me over his little glasses. His desk is completely empty, no papers or pens what so ever. Even his scroll is elsewhere, which leaves me to question what he does up in this oversized office all day.

“Will you now grace me with the honor of knowing what it is I owe you?” He says, poker face well set. 

“I need information.” I say, stepping forward. I throw what chest I have forward as I walk, since I may as well act like I have sway over the most connected person in Vale that I can come demanding favors.

“Information is usually Junior’s area, is it not?” He asks. 

“Junior likely had his ass thrown out of school by the end of his first week, not exactly the kind of scholar I need.” 

“So you need a scholar.” Ozpin restates. It makes me uncomfortable as he does. Something about his tone… It’s like he knows what I’m asking before I have.

“I… need to prove the existence of a semblance.” I say. Ozpin leans back in his chair, arms falling to the rests on the chair.

“Semblances are reflections of the soul, manifestations of personality Ms Belladonna. So long as people have differences, a semblance could take any form.” He’s lecturing me, the bastard. I’m not one of your floozies in the sailor skirts.

“I’m well aware Oz.” I bite back more snark, remembering I’m here asking for his help. He smiles, arrogance oozing off of him.

“If you are, then what, might I ask, are you in need of a scholar for?” 

“I need to prove in a court of law that a semblance can be mind affecting, forcing someone to do things against their will.” I say. I think I see a raised eyebrow for a fraction of a second, but Oz’s poker face stays in place.

“I see. There has never been a recorded semblance with such an ability. Nothing that can override one’s soul with another’s, so to say.” 

“I’m, again, well aware.” I say. Oops. I was supposed to stop sassing the most respected man in the city. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. 

“I take it… you have a reason for asking about this topic.” Ozpin says. Despite the statement, he’s clearly look for me to spill. I don’t, and he leans forward again. “Is this about the case from last night, the alleged White Fang sympathizer who attempted to bomb a sushi shop? Who says she was forced to do it against her will?” I hate this guy. His ability to put two and two together gives him far too much insight into my goings on. 

“Yes. She’s a client.” Ozpin looks at me, expecting better than ‘client’. I continue through clenched teeth, “Technically her parents are. I told them I’d find her, I did, but now she’s in jail. I don’t consider the job done till she’s cleared or confirmed the whack job the media says she is.” There was no way in hell I was telling Ozpin about my own connections to Adam. His help isn’t worth that. Ozpin’s already got enough blackmail material on me, knowing how I spent my teenage years. I don’t need him knowing the source of my drinking habits. Thankfully, he doesn’t dig further. 

“… I understand.” He stands up, turning to face the window that backs the clock face. All he’s missing is a cat in his arms. “As far scholarly matters… There is no way to prove a semblance exists outside of someone’s demonstration of it. All Huntsman submit a review of their semblance when they get their license, but as we are both aware, none like the one you describe has been recorded.” I clench my fist. 

“As for legal counsel… Any argument outside of a proven semblance will not hold against the prosecution. Even if they did believe in the semblance, what would stop everyone from saying ‘someone made me do it’ when they commit the crime? Unless the holder of the semblance is found in association with the girl, I doubt any case built on her being controlled will succeed. At best, she’ll get an insanity verdict and be locked up for life.” Ozpin says, He doesn’t turn around, which I’m glad for. It gives me the chance to bite my lip in frustration. There’s no way to prove Adam is the monster he is without somehow capturing the man who can control your every thought and feeling with a word. 

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” Ozpin says, turning around. His poker face hasn’t changed though. “You are welcome to talk to Dr Oobleck for any historical references that may help your case, or Deputy Headmistress Glynda who is most familiar with semblances of students passing through our halls. Shall I give you directions?” I grimace and let the feeling of my nails digging into my palm motivate me to speak.

“As you said, it won’t help. All I need is the legal justification. I can’t get that here.” I say. Ozpin frowns but doesn’t prod further. “You still owe me.” I say, remembering I wanted to keep the upper hand in this conversation. He only smiles at me, to my great displease. I turn back to the elevator. As the door opens, he speaks up again.

“If you have any luck proving this semblance exists… I’d love to know more about it. It’s something I would want prepare my students for.” I don’t give him any response as the doors close behind me. 

“… Does he always have to make a good point?” I mutter to myself. Better the future generations know how to deal with a semblance like Adam’s. Then maybe I wouldn’t be the one cleaning this shit up.

———

The Vale police HQ is located in midtown, near the other port that allows travel to Beacon. It’s an easy trip, and the airship ride is pleasant with the sunsetting over Mountain Glenn. The police are, as Weiss predicted, less so. 

“It’s a half hour till we seal up the cells for the night, you really need to do this right?” The desk clerk growls at me. 

“Yeah I do.” I bite back. 

“Fucking animal…” the clerk grumbles under his breath.

“And between my four ears I can hear your complaints, donut junkie.” I bite. He flinches and I know I have him. He calls up the cell guard on the internal landline and motions for me to come into the actual precinct. Exaggeratedly, but I give him that one. 

An officer, much less chatty than his friend at the desk, leads back to a holding cell. He opens the door with instructions to knock twice to leave, and I go in. Annabel looks… worn out, at best. She’s been crying and it definitely seems like the police haven’t been easy on her. Unsurprisingly, given the media slapped the White Fang sympathizer label on her. As soon as any faunus is associated with the White Fang, law enforcement stops treating them as human. Of course, the only requirement for that association is being a faunus, so law enforcement always has an excuse to abuse faunus.

She recognizes me, to say the least, and the panic floods her eyes. I don’t move from the door, leaning back against the wall with my hands raised placatingly. I give her a moment to take that gesture in.

“I… take it you have an idea of who I am.” I say. She just nods. “I assume from the man who force you to put on the vest and threaten the… restaurant?” She nods again. Her eyes are widening again. “I know what happened to you. I believe it. I’ve been there.” I say slowly, without breaking eye contact. If she’s anything like me after getting away from Adam, she’s doubting the sincerity of every word she hears. If I can make her believe there’s one person in her corner…

She keeps looking at me, doe eyed. Alright… I guess I’m carrying this conversation. “I’m a private investigator. I’m going to try and find” Now or never Blake, “…Adam to validate your story to the police. If you have any information you can give me to help me find him…” and she’s devolved into frantically shaking her head no. 

“He’ll know. I don’t even know.” She squeaks out. I sigh. Probably not good bedside manner but I don’t have the patience for this. 

“If you don’t know anything, that’s one thing. I know he moves around a lot. If you do know something, I’ll make sure you’re protected.” I don’t bother mentioning I don’t believe a single thing on Remnant can stop Adam. “You can tell me what it is. That way you can go free, be with your parents… leave the city behind.” Oh ha, that last one is what I want to do. She keeps shaking her head. I fiddle with a lock of my hair and let her get that out of her system. Eventually she realizes she’s been shaking her head now for the last minute and stops herself.

I step forward to the chair and sit down with a sigh. “If you can’t tell me anything right now, that’s fine. I’m going to try anyway, and I’ll give you my card so if you do remember something you can contact me. I just want to warn you… It’s going to be hard, in custody. Faunus aren’t respected normally, when they consider you a criminal… especially one associated with the White Fang… They’ll take an excuse to hurt you.” Oh boy I’m scaring her. Her ears are somehow drooping lower. “Be careful.” She stares at me long and hard before nodding once. I think that’s the best I’m going to get from her. I give her a card and leave. 

I’ve never been arrested. I’ve done things I should be arrested for, and people I worked with have been. I once thought the inequality in the prison systems, the abuse aimed at faunus that politicians ignore was something to be fixed. Now I accept it as a fact of this shitty life. Maybe if my idealistic teenage self was more successful, Annabel wouldn’t have to worry about being beaten in her sleep, or having her ears mutilated. I don’t believe I’d have made a difference. Not anymore.

———

One thousand Lien in public transit costs and not a single lead on where or what Adam is doing. I’m not willing to bet on Annabel coming up with any leads for me. Even if she gets over the fear of him finding her, I doubt she knows much. Adam’s been around a long time, he knows how to cover his tracks. 

A good PI would probably check case files, reinterview witnesses, revisit the scene… something like that. I’m going to a god damn bar. I’ve had enough let downs for the day and whiskey never fails me. The first one I spot is called “Roses” and I make my way inside. It’s a quiet place, thankfully, and I grab a seat on the near side of the bar. One of the bartenders pours my drink, I catch a glimpse of the other one heading into the back as I slam the double Yeller down my throat. The bartender hadn’t even put the bottle down yet. I look at her expectantly, then between the bottle and my glass. She pours and I repeat the process. The third pour I wave her off.

As much as I want reprieve from the case… my mind latches onto it in the sea of bourbon I’m flooding it with. I have an advantage over Adam, in that I know how he ticks. I start typing into my scroll. He hates humans, and relishes the opportunity to hurt them. Especially if he can phrase it in terms of faunus equality. Any crime with a faunus ‘radical’ in the coming days could potentially come back to him. Ditto to any crime against the Schnee Dust Company. Maybe Weiss can get me access to the local head of security. Adam’s not an idiot, but if he sees an easy way to take out an SDC facility, he will. If I can follow crime in the area, I might get an idea of what he’s up to.

He also had Annabel buying bombing materials. If there’s any bomb threats going out those could be him too. He knows how to build them, we learned together back in the Fang. What targets could he have here though? Is he acting on behalf of the Fang? What’s left of it, anyway. My glass is full again. I look up, the bartender nods to me. I don’t have any contacts left in the Fang, I don’t know what happened. People started disappearing left and right soon after I left it behind. 

Tabling the interaction with the Fang… Beacon? It’s the only place I can think he’d take out. He always thought Huntsman encouraged the system of humans dominating the faunus. But he’d be insane to go up against Beacon without serious resources. That could be evidence to a link with the Fang. I wonder if I search my old safe houses I’d find something about… about….

I had looked up, the familiar headiness that comes with the whiskey causing my vision to lag behind me. My very on topic thoughts were obliterated by the site of the other bartender.The site of two parts of her in particular, which bounced in the most aesthetically pleasing way possible. The buxom blonde was dressed in a crop top shirt with quite the view of her cleavage, denim shorts that hug her curves, and a open zip up hoodie over top of that. A part of me that’s less… preoccupied right now notes the golden bracers on each wrist. They’re clearly not fashion, they’re weapons of some kind. She picks up a keg and lifts it over one shoulder, bringing it down the bar towards the taps across the bar from my seat. 

“Evenin Yang. Beautiful and bouncy as always.” A man a few seats down from her says. I wait for him to get a glare, but Yang just shrugs as she hooks up the new keg. 

“Evening Mello. How’s the wife?” The blonde, Yang replies. 

“Good. She’ll be by later, work’s got her tied up…” I tune the rest of his explanation out. Yang must be a good sport. I’d have torn him a new one for a comment like that. She finishes her work with the keg and I watch her mix drinks and chat up half the bar. Almost everyone here seems to know her. She’s an absolutely delight to watch, not only for her looks but for the way she smiles and interacts with everyone. With her blonde hair haloing her frame, it’s almost like she’s a ray of sunshine. It’s been awhile since I was with a woman… alright, with anyone, but Yang is the type of woman any girl would consider taking to bed at least once.

Not like that.

Well. 

I slip off my stool, apparently floored by my own thoughts. My bag clatters to the floor around me but I don’t join it on the ground. 

“You alright pussycat?” A voice, the voice of the person who caught me I realize, says behind me. I seethe, having heard pussycat far too many times from too many sleazy fuckers in bars. 

I spin around to face my ‘savior’ only to come face to face with Yang. My shock at seeing the blonde I was just dwelling on in all sorts of ways does nothing to delay the automatic response to being touched though. My fist flies at her face as I push off her with my other hand. She grabs my wrist with trained ease, pushing it away from her body. She uses that hold to stabilize me as I slip on my own crap, but she doesn’t grab me anywhere else. As soon as I steady my feet she lets go of my wrist as well.

“Hey hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you. I don’t clean these floors well enough for you to want to crash on them.” She says placatingly. It dawns on me I tried to punch her for keeping me from getting a head wound. I bite my lip, not sure what to say, but she smiles wryly at me and continues for me. 

“You are definitely cut off kitty cat.” She says, loud enough for the bar to hear and chuckle at. I must have made a face at the nickname, because she notices and says quietly “No cat jokes, got it.” She likes whatever my face did next, cause she smiles again. 

“Lemme get your stuff and we’ll get you a cab.” Yang says, crouching to gather my things. What little awareness I have left notes the bar has stopped looking at us, apparently content with the results of the encounter. Happy place. My bag is placed over my shoulder by Yang, and she motions for the door. Yang sighs and leans against the door frame as we stand outside. 

“Sorry about the spectacle. You definitely don’t seem like the type who doesn’t like attention.” She says, not looking at me. “I hope it doesn’t dissuade you from coming back some time.” I wonder why she wants me to come back. “I’m the owner, after all; wouldn’t be good if I scared off all the new clients.” Ah. That’s why.

“Yang, right?” I finally say. 

“Oh wow you don’t sound half as drunk as I thought you would. How many fingers am I holding up?” She asks, holding up two fingers. I hold up two fingers as well, rather than replying.

“Not a good sport are you, um…” Yang reaches into her pocket. “Blake? Sorry, I grabbed one of your business cards that fell out of your bag. Hope you don’t mind.” Yang then steps forward suddenly, waving down a cab. 

“You chariot awaits Blake. I gave them the address on your card.” Yang says, holding open the door to the cab. 

“… It’s really bad for business to get cabs for clients who didn’t even pay their tab.” I say.

“Well… If you don’t come back, I know where to find you.” Yang says teasingly, waving my business card back and forth. She closes the door on me and taps the car like a police car, and the driver hits the gas.

“What… The hell was that.” I mutter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blake's bi, if you haven't guessed.


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own an alarm clock. I've destroyed far more than anyone should ever need, for a start. But most days, today included, I wake up with a hangover from hell. Ringing bells or shitty radio do nothing but drag me further into that hell. Usually, with a hangover this bad, I'd be waking up next to some John. This time, I'm waking up lamenting it's not a Jill. Most of my memories are hazy from last night, but Yang's figure is well carved.

"…" I decide I need a cold god damn shower. I can't entertain the idea of chasing some happy and stable bar owner down for a lay. I'm being hunted by a deranged, mind controlling bastard and swore to his last victim I would clear her name. I'm a depressed, bitchy alcoholic with literal and metaphorical baggage that could kill people. The cold water hits my skin and it drives all of it home, bringing me crashing back down to reality. I have work to do, and then I have to get the fuck outta town, so long as Adam is here. I'm…

That kind of story isn't for me. I turn off the water and let it drip off me.

* * *

I settle into my desk with Irish whiskey and a side of coffee. I bring up the crime reports in the area and start scouring the internet for news relating to racism motivated assault. It's not the most effective way of gathering information, given faunus are abused every day of the year, Adam or no Adam. I'm honestly surprised the White Fang didn't have even higher recruitment rates. The fantasy of kicking the crap out of some elitist human has to have crossed every Faunus's mind at least once.

I don't get any leads from that search. While scrolling through page 16 of results, the thought crosses my mind I don't have a plan for when I do find Adam. What was I thinking, I'd just ask him to use his semblance for a court of law, proving he's the criminal behind the bombing Annabel is accused of? While he's at it, maybe he'll admit to uncountable counts assault, rape, and murder too.

I shelve that plan for when I find something that can actually lead me to him. I turn to old White Fang hideouts I had used in the city. Two had been bought, one turned into a Buffalo Wild Wings and the other a cat cafe. The irony of the latter did not escape me. Two more I wasn't sure about, the lots were still abandoned but the false leases we had on them had defaulted. The bank may have come in and cleaned out the contents. One, uptown, was still being paid for apparently. That's gotta be the best bet I have.

Let's see… There's getting in touch with SDC security still on the docket. I'll swing by Weiss's office later. Following the purchases of dust that can be used for explosives… That's harder. If I contact Annabel's parents, they might be able to give me the name of who sent them the materials. I'll assume Annabel won't tell me.

There's a few raps on the door. I check the time, it could be a client considering it's 10am. I stand up to get to my bedroom first, not getting caught with no pants this time, considering I didn't put a pair on after my shower. Except, I apparently left the door unlocked last night. In walks happy and stable bar owner Yang.

"Morning, I'm looking for From Shadows Invest…" Yang trails off and looks me up and down. "I should try that look at the bar. The tips would be fantastic." She says. She's not dressed as she was last night, she has cargo pants on, a tank top with a yellow symbol on it, and a half length bomber jacket.

"If you can pull it off" I say. I don't know where all the lack of composure came from last night but if Yang came expecting more she wasn't getting it. She seemed affront by my comment as I walk into the bedroom for that pair of pants.

"You think I can't? I'm not known for backing down from a challenge. I got a set that'll knock the regulars off their seats." She calls from the main room. As I step back into the room she smirks at me. "Kinda like you."

"I'd attribute that to your crap booze, rather than your ass." I bite back. She grins.

"You're a bitch. I like that." She says.

"Grade A. Now if you don't mind, what are you doing in my office?" I ask. I motion to the chairs and couch for clients, settling into my own chair. She sits in one of the chairs, and I pour more whiskey into my coffee. I motion the bottle to her, but she shakes her head.

"I don't drink, actually." She says. I raise an eyebrow at it but don't judge her.

"So?"

"Well, I want to hire you." She says.

"For what?" I ask. I can't imagine what she could possibly need investigated. No one could cheat on that ass. Not that I'd be telling her that. Yang sighs and settles in. The jovial mood washes off her face, leaving behind worries only an adult could hold.

"If you recall, my bar is a local sort. Lots of regulars, who all share their stories. There's been an alarming trend in those stories, and I'm worried. Lots of kids in the neighborhood are showing back and forth lethargy and hyper focus, some having violent outbreaks."

"… Exofen's side effects." I say. The same steroid Oz's targets from yesterday were dealing.

"You know your stuff. I knew I had a good feeling about you for a reason." Yang says. I don't comment. "I haven't had the heart to tell the parents what their kids are up to, but I have taken to keeping an eye on them. But…" She looks down at herself and smiles sheepishly. "Subtly isn't my thing. I was hoping you could find out where they're getting the stuff from."

"And let me guess, not report it to the authorities?" I ask. Yang looks at me sadly.

"I wouldn't ask that of you. You have to live with the decisions you make, every day." Yang pauses for a moment. She shakes her head slightly, clearing her thoughts. "You can do what you feel is best. They're good kids though. Local brats, probably in over their heads."

"… What do you have on them?" Not that I have time for this with the whole Adam thing but Yang looks like she really cares about these kids.

"I have names and home addresses. I imagine their usual hangout is more useful, it's the basketball court on 3rd and 12th. They're usually meeting there after school."

"I'll take all of that, and I'll look into it. No promises, if they're as slippery as you say…" I say.

"Great, when do we start?" Yang asks, writing names and addresses on a post it note.

"We?"

"Yeah. I want to be involved. I can take care of myself if there's trouble. I can't sit idly by. It's not how I operate." Yang says. She pumps a fist and her golden bracelet transforms into a bracer with shotgun shells lining it. "I graduated from Signal, I'm no slouch in a fight." I eye the weapon. It's well maintained and looks high quality.

"No Beacon?" I ask, taking the note from her.

"I… attended a year and a half. I dropped out though." She says. She looks away from me. I don't comment on it. I'm sure everyone and their mother asks how she could give that up, she doesn't need to hear it from me.

"Well, as for the we. I don't doubt you can handle yourself in a fight, but as you put it you aren't subtle. Let me do my work alone, and I'll check in with you. It's not like I can make you any more stealthy." I say, with a pointed look at her chest. Yang grins.

"Well then me and the bombshells here are waiting in the wings for an update." Yang says, standing up. "As for your retainer, how about I drop the bottle and a half of bourbon from your tab and we call it even?" Yang says and I nod. "Sounds good. I have to go reorder my whiskey shelf, so I'll see you soon Blake. You're welcome at Roses anytime" With that, she leaves.

I lean back into my chair and watch the door close behind her. She's… a character. The curious part of me wants to know more about her. The cold shower from this morning reminds me I already went over this. I'm just going to find these kid's dealer. Yang can deal with the rest herself. I finish the rest of my coffee and get my bag.

* * *

If anyone had told me a decade ago I'd be in the Schnee Dust Company headquarters, I would have assumed it was both illegal entry and with intent for grand theft; not entering through the front door with not an ounce of fanfare. Vale's headquarters for the SDC isn't quite as flashy as the Atlas one, so I'm told. That said, the SDC HQ is one of the city's tallest skyscrapers and they own every floor fo the building. The Vale office mostly handles international sales and oversees shipping and receiving, so they need the office space. SDC doesn't maintain any mines outside of Atlas, though if they did Adam probably would have attacked them long before now.

Everything in the SDC is white. Marble floors, white desks, accents in various Dust colors. The employees dress in white. SDC has a hard on for appearances and I'm sure every dry cleaner in the city gets half their income from SDC uniforms. I walk up to the receptionist, my boots clicking on the floor and echoing through the oversized room.

"Welcome to the SDC Valean HQ, how can I… help you?" the receptionist says, pausing when she looks up and gets a look at my ears. Bitch.

"I'm here to see Weiss Schnee." I say and watch her eyebrow shoot up in skepticism. I guess I should be glad she hasn't hit the panic button I'm sure she has under that desk.

"Do… you have an appointment?" she says, clearly resisting the urge to call security to get me out of her hair.

"Call her." I say, folding my arms and popping my hip to the side for optimum sass.

"I think not-" she starts but I cut her off.

"That's okay, you know what, I will" and that's exactly what I do. It rings twice before Weiss picks up.

"Blake? You don't call me, what is it" she says. She might actually be a bit worked up. Oops.

"I'm in your lobby, thought I'd talk to your chief of security while I was here. They don't seem to want to let me up though" oh look. The receptionist is sweating.

"Oh?" Is all Weiss says before she hangs up. I'd be offended if I haven't done the same to her a hundred times. That said, I expected her to help me… get into the building when I called her. I sigh, ready for the smirk on the receptionist's face when I turn around. If I have to break into the building to talk to the head of security… Well, at least then he'll know I'm legit.

The elevator dings and Weiss steps out, looking like a million bucks. Might actually be a million bucks, though there's a few too many belts on the outfit for my taste. I actually hear one of the people in the waiting room gasp and I can't control my smirk. I'll need to give Weiss shit for that later.

"Aera." Weiss says and the temperature in the room drops like a rock. "I have told you that your role is not to filter those who visit the building, only to pass their information up to the appropriate assistant before, have I not?"  
"Yes ma'am." Aera says quickly.

"And why was my assistant not informed of Miss Belladonna's arrival?" I watch Aera's face. I know the expression, she's trying to decide if she can get away with a lie. Weiss notices the same thing apparently.

"It's not a hard question Aera."

"Yes Miss Schnee, I just wanted to-" Weiss waves a hand dismissively.

"Actually I don't care. I know why. I'm sure it was Charles giving you orders behind my back" Weiss says. Aera looks relieved, which to me reads as that's not true at all and she's happy to have an excuse given to her. Weiss continues though, "Or you follow his mentalities despite my name being on the side of the building."

Weiss steps around the back of the desk and presses a button on the (white) phone. "Mai, send security down to pick up Aera from the receptionist's desk. She's fired, get her off the property and hire a replacement who understands who is in charge of this company." Aera's face is priceless. She can't muster the words as Weiss walks to the elevator.

"Miss Belladonna, if you will?" Weiss says, motioning to the elevator. I wave an exaggerated good bye at the sputtering receptionist and join Weiss. As the door closes on us I can see another elevator open with two burly security types stepping out towards the desk. Serves her right.

* * *

Weiss's posture only relaxes once the elevator starts to move up the floors. She sighs deeply. "Was your intention to make me cause a scene in my own lobby?" She asks.

"No, but it was an enjoyable side effect." I say.

"Bitch."  
"You're just catching on?" I say, stepping out of the elevator. Weiss steps beside me, her exasperation from only a moment before carefully masked.

"Hardly. Now, Chief of Security is down this hall, take the left hallway, end of the hall. When you're done, my office is straight down this hall. Stop by before you leave." She turns to me, a glare as sharp as her sword. "Don't skip out." She says into my eyes before turning on her heel and marching towards her own office, presumably.

The first thing I should probably ask her CoS is what his opinion is of leaving a private investigator with a history of investigating the SDC alone on the executive floor of the building. Weiss's trust in me is utterly ridiculous at times, back in my Fang days ten minutes on this floor and I could topple the SDC entirely.

"…" But those days are in the past. And maybe unlike a certain bullheaded bastard, they'll stay there. My lofty goals of saving the Faunus went to the curb when I realized I couldn't even save myself. That said, iot's too early to be drinking away demons so I walk into the Chief of Security's office before they can grab hold of my mind.

I step into the room Weiss indicated to find the Chief of Security, Regan Errant according to his name plate, behind his desk. Awards decorate the wall behind him and the desk is cluttered with papers and a vintage computer. He's got a single chair facing the desk, fair less ornate than his own. An intimidation tactic, admittedly an old one. Regan himself must be nearing retirement age, despite his impressive build. His hair is salt and pepper, thinning slightly but not enough to be notable. His uniform is crisp, but worn in and fits him well. His green eyes immediately scan me for weapons as I look him over. I'm almost positive his hand under the desk went for a weapon. I can see the exact moment he sees my ears in his eyes and I watch his nose wrinkle. Still, as a testament to his position, he speaks before he starts shooting.

"And who might you be?" He asks, his tone warning.

"The last remnant of the White Fang, hear to raid you, kill you, and skin you, not in that order." I say, crossing my arms and looking down at him. The hand he had under the desk starts to come out from under the desk when his phone rings. He picks it up with the other hand.

"… Yes Ma'am. …I will do my damnedest not to." He says. I can only assume it's Weiss cause a guy like this doesn't differ to just anyone. He hangs up.

"I can assume then, you are the Ms. Belladonna Ms. Schnee told me to 'try not to strangle'?" He asks in a deadpan. I only smirk in response. "Of course, I do know who you are." He says, sitting back in his chair, the hand finally rising from under the desk. I pull his office door closed behind me and step forward. Rather than sit in the chair I lean against the wall next to his desk. He makes no comment.

"Should I be flattered?"

"I should think not, as the Chief of Security I don't take well to enemies of the Schnee Family." He says. Involuntarily my heart skips. He doesn't mean my time with the Fang does he? Does Weiss know about that? "You were the PI looking for dirt on Weiss for that Valean Councilman weren't you?" I try to catch the sigh of relief in my throat.

"Yes, and somehow Weiss took that as a reason to make herself my best friend."

"Indeed. She outright ordered no background checks be made on you, much to my displeasure." He says. That's new information. I don't comment on it. He gives it a moment before continuing "So. To what do I owe the pleasure."

"Give and take. I have a credible threat to report that will come against the SDC, which would seem incredible in any other context."

"And what's going to make it credible now?"

"…"

"You got nothing?"

"Just that Weiss believes it." I clench a fist in my jacket pocket. He doesn't laugh me out of the room, so I continue. "A high ranking official of the once White Fang is in town. I've confirmed it with my own eyes." Nothing from him. "… I have a history with the man. I know his semblance, which is the ability to control others." That gets an eyebrow raise from Regan. "He is as extremist as they come. It is highly likely he will attack the SDC, probably via bomb, using its own employees. He will have no regard for human life. He has done this before, and will take personal pleasure from doing so."

Regan continues to stare at me. I feel my nails in my palm, really? Bastard probably stopped listening when he saw my ears.

"That it?" He asks after a moment. I nod, knowing if I speak I'll be more accusation than acknowledgment. He stares right into my eyes.

"Well, it's certainly not a credible threat." He finally sighs, rolling his head with a soft crack. "That said, I trust Ms Schnee's judgement. If she believes you, I'll act on your information."

…That was unexpected. He turns around in the desk as I stare blankly at him. He jots down some notes, presumably what I just told him.

"What, thought I'd ignore you because of your ears?" He smirks at me.

"Actually I was going to say you'd hate me for being a woman but." I say dryly. I don't get any of the momentum of the conversation back from it.

"I'd be happy to direct you to someone on the floor who will throw you out for having ears, but you won't find me doing it. I take Ms. Schnee's safety seriously and any threat is credible, whether it's believable or not." He says.

"… I see why she said to talk to you." I say, sitting in the chair across from him.

"I'm not a fan of bullshit, and I'm told you aren't either." He says, tapping his pen against the desk. He's amused at the least. "That must be it."

"…" I say, arms crossed. Damnit, I must look like a pouting little girl.

* * *

I give Regan a full description of Adam and his capabilities. He doesn't question why I know these things, which leaves me to believe he either knows my past or doesn't care. He wasn't kidding when he said he takes Weiss's security seriously. A few times he brought up cases I've taken as references in my description. He must have been keeping tabs on me since I met Weiss. I know he has been when he offers me bourbon.

It'd have been rude not to accept.

"Anything else Ms. Belladonna?" He asks, leaning back from his papers. I shake my head. "Alright… So we have a violent, radical ex White Fang member who has a semblance that forces anyone who hears him to obey his commands. They want to do his bidding while under the effect, making them hard to detect. He has training in espionage, assault, and leadership, extensive knowledge of bomb creation. The only thing keeping him at bay is that he's intoxicated in his own whims, going from whatever interests him at the moment. He will have a perchance for attacking Schnee's directly, or woman who… look like you. I'll have an artist do up a rendering of the physical description you gave me as well."

"When you put it that way, it doesn't seem like a big deal at all." I more sigh than snark.

"Simple problems aren't worth the time to fix them." He says. "Now, you started this off as give and take. What's the catch for all this info?"

"I'm… trying to find Adam on my own." I say. The judgement flies to his expression.

"You just told me to warn my multinational corporation of this guy due to how serious a threat he is, and you, and singular private eye who happens to be his type-" I shiver. Hope he didn't catch that. "is going to look for him on her own." The distain drips from his voice.

"You start paying my salary, you can start complaining about how I work." I growl.

"Your funeral" Regan says with an exaggerated shrug.

"And you won't be invited. The take here is I want a list of all crimes made against the company specifically, particularly those of a violent nature." Regan frowns.

"Which is something I'd already be looking into. Why do I have to turn this over to you?"

"Because Weiss likes me for whatever reason and she pays your salary." I snark at him. Still a little sour about him calling me out for the solo act. He's… not wrong, but I don't do groups. More liability that way.

Regan doesn't like it, but he nods. I stand up and give him a card from my back pocket. "Send me an email with what you have when you have it." Regan stands up as well. He puts a hand out to me.

"I do appreciate the information, and everything you've done for the sake of my employer. If you ever need help…" He trails off. I adjust my bag on my shoulder rather than take his hand.

"I'll… take it under advisement." I say, not making eye contact. I know I'm not fooling him but… I don't want him to see exactly how little I believe he has my back in my eyes. How little I believe anyone does.

"… Understood." He replies, dropping his hand. "I hope if you find anything on Adam, you'll share as professional curtesy." I don't say anything to that and make my way out the door. This whole process has been… tiring. Other people complicate something as simple as finding a man, or gathering information. I'll never understand why a competent man like Regan would hamstring himself by attaching himself to a company.

I wonder what he'd say if he knew I'd attacked SDC properties in the past. Should drop that little nugget sometime. Just to watch the world burn. I'd be the kindling but. That's not a bad way to go.

I come up on the door to Weiss's office but stop short of the glass, hearing Weiss talking heatedly in the room.

"Charles you have wasted enough of my time on these complaints as it is. Yes I am fully aware of what happened at the port, I was in the building at the time and made the arrest. The SDC does not make business decisions based on the actions of terrorists, and I will not be dropping transparency policy over this." She's pissed, I can tell. I step forward and Weiss sees me through the glass door as she paces on her phone. She waves me in and I step inside.

"Once again Charles this is not a discussion point. We are going forward with the policy change whether you like it or not. I already have the support of the board…" Weiss trails off, apparently listening to this Charles. Her face contorts into a snarl. "You… I've had enough of this conversation. If you don't have that economics report for me by 4pm I'll expect a resignation letter instead." Weiss then clicks off the phone and tosses it into the couch.

"Son of a bitch." Weiss says as she sinks into her chair.

"Trouble in the royal palace?" I say, earning myself a glare.

"I wouldn't wisecrack at my efforts if I were you. You'd love this." Weiss says.

"Are you making a bid to shut down SDC?"

"Just to make our mining sector a public offering which would make the barbaric practices that abuse the faunus my father put into place impossible to maintain, giving the chance for a proper miner's union to form and encourage SDC to properly support faunus as full employees." My eyes widened at some point.

"Oh." Is about all I could manage to vocalize. "That's. A really impressive plan."

"Thank you" Weiss says, suddenly rooting around in her desk for a pen. "And the assholes my father placed on the Valean SDC board are trying to block the change via internal politics. Dust only knows father can't be outted as a racist prick without his say so."

"Would that be this Charles?" I ask.

"You got it. Charles Dunell. Does nothing but my father's bidding, you can see the brown stains on his nose. I'm going to have to go through the board members again and remind them why they pledged me their support to begin with, since he's stirring up dissent." I could already infer what he was using to do that. Weiss already mentioned terrorist and being there, so it was her dinner with me that was so terribly interrupted by Annabel that ruined her push for the plan.

Oh, guilt complex? Isn't it a bit early for you to be functioning? No? Damnit.

"I'll… see what I can find on the board members. SHouldn't be hard, Big CEO types tend to think they're untouchable." I say. Weiss looks at me, surprised.

"I'd… appreciate that. Thank you Blake." She says. "Do you want to do this on the books? SDC can easily pay your rates…"

"No need." I reply, and Weiss looks downright shocked. "I don't know when I'll get to it. I've got the whole Adam, Annabel thing, and I took a case for another woman yesterday…"

"One that won't get you bombed I hope." Weiss says in a deadpan.

"Low chances, despite her bombshells." Weiss cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Medium chances, since you made a point to comment she has bombshells."

"The legendary Schnee negotiation skills have swayed me. Medium chances." I banter back. Weiss smirks at me but doesn't continue. "So… What'd you need from me?" I ask.

"Nothing. I just wanted you to say hello before you bolted."

"…" I just look at Weiss. I can vaguely see her smirking as she writes notes into a journal. "I hate the Schnees."

"Join the club" Weiss remarks, and I can't help being amused. Oh if only she knew…

"I'm out of here. then. I have actual work to be doing"

"Nearest pub is two blocks" Weiss says without looking up. I choose not to quip back and leave the office.

* * *

I glare at a guy on the subway whose been inching a few feet closer to my ass each of the last 5 stops. He freezes. That's right buddy, I'm on to you. He turns around, facing an older gentleman the rat is far less likely to want to get up close and personal with. I watch him till the 5th street stop, where he bolts out the door. Chicken shit.

5th street is a busy stop, and half the car empties out. It gives me a chance to lean against the wall by the connecting door between the cars, away from the hustle and bustle of the main doors. Also gives me a moment to think about what Weiss is doing.

I offered to take the gig on a whim, mostly because CEOs tend to have large closets stuffed to the brim with skeletons. It's easy pickings honestly. The reason why Weiss was asking was less important than just doing it to hurt the SDC and maybe a little because it's Weiss. Not that she's a friend or anything. Now, underground and dodging yet another human who thinks it's okay to sneak up, a term I use lightly, on a faunus girl for a squeeze and there won't be repercussion… Remembering the fact that I had to pull a "I know your boss personally" to even be let into the building at SDC… There's still so much inequality in this world for the faunus.

Back in my time with the Fang… At least before Adam got… possessive… That was my passion. I fought tooth and nail since I was a little girl to make the world better for people born with faunus features. I was proud of the work I did, I was… happy in my attempts to change the world. When did that change? Back then something like an SDC policy change to make a union possible for the miners and to prevent lack of transparency from encourage corrupt policies would be like a dream come true. I would have given Weiss anything she needed to make that happen, without even knowing her as I do. Because the change and betterment of faunus lives was worth my efforts.

Then Adam got possessive. He used his semblance on me, he forced me to work towards his more violent and militant goals for the Fang, among so much else. At some point I must have… given up on changing the world, being so desperate to simply control my own thoughts and actions again. Then so desperate to never lose that control again.

"23rd" comes over the loud speaker in the car. I step off the car, looking at my boots as I walk. Maybe… by helping Weiss with her opponent on the board… I can get some of that passion I had as a teenager back. It would be nice. In theory. I haven't felt much in the positive end of the spectrum since I started up the business. Since before that. Who am I kidding, since Adam used me like a damned doll. I ball my fists in my jacket pocket. The Weiss case will give a chance to get my passion back. The Annabel case will give me closure with that bullheaded bastard.

"As for this Yang case…" I mutter climbing the steps out of the subway station.

Blue eyes. Red hair. Black and red outfit. The shotgun cane. And the SDC scar on his face.

"Blake." Adam says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been in Fire Emblem Three houses hell sorry not sorry. Good to get back to snarky Blake though, even if I'm a little fuzzy on how I planned story arcs before. Hopefully I can find those notes. ><

**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping the "he's back" shock doesn't derail Blake's character too much. She'll be back to her snarky self soon. 
> 
> Weiss is the Trish of this story, though her story arc will be different than Trish's. She's actually more capable then Blake, being a graduated Huntress, as opposed to Trish's desire to be like Jessica. 
> 
> I have never written fanfic before and between ao3 and FF at least 5 people have read this. Yikes. Hope you're enjoying your reading.


End file.
